


Abeyance

by velvetcadence



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, Comfort Sex, Established Relationship, From Sex to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Poor Charles, Protective Erik, Revenge schemes, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcadence/pseuds/velvetcadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier may own a billion-dollar business empire, but he still needs his Dom to quiet him after an assassination attempt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abeyance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikeracity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/gifts).



> PSA: Ikeracity pounces on vulnerable writers with a penchant for porn when they're half asleep! Beware!
> 
> (Hahaha ilu u poopy <3)
> 
> Based on [this](http://azryal00.tumblr.com/post/72152788617) and [this](https://31.media.tumblr.com/3e695793d50c214f0a1e63ac56769ea5/tumblr_inline_myv2kjUg9A1qkudux.gif).

Once in a while, Charles Xavier needs a good fucking. Something to quiet the riot in his mind, to quell the stress and aggravation of managing a billion-dollar investment firm and his own dysfunctional family. With the ousting of Kurt Marko from the Board of Directors and thus Shaw’s chessboard, Charles’ own anxiety has only increased. The family home is rife with tension, and Marko’s vow of vengeance against his stepson is straining the already distant relationship between Charles and his mother. He's tired of being scared of his own shadow, necessary as it is. Someone has pulled a gun on him today and it’s not even two in the afternoon.

He calls the first number he has on speed dial. “I’ve some personal business to discuss with you.”

The voice at the other end of the line is quiet and precise. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“It’s important.”

“I’m busy.”

“Please.”

“You can’t just expect me to drop everything right now.”

“Someone just tried to kill me again.” Charles swallows around a dry throat. He’ll beg if he has to. He feels lost and untethered, and there’s truly no one else to turn to. “Please, Erik.”

The preceding words are muffled, as if Erik’s covered his phone to excuse himself from the room, but what’s important is that he promises, “I’ll be there. Are you at the flat?”

“Yes, Erik.”

“Good. Stay put and wait for me. Get yourself ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Charles hangs up and rubs his temples, trying to stave off a headache. He wastes no time stripping himself of his suit, folding his clothes properly because Erik doesn’t care for sloppiness. Then he arranges his shoes by the door and opens a drawer for lube. There’s precious time left for preparation with Erik driving in directly from his office, so Charles immediately lays on his back, slicks his fingers up and gets himself wet and ready.

It takes a while, but when he’s able to fit in three of his fingers comfortably, he wipes his hand on the bedsheet and reaches for his belt, making an impromptu binding for his hands and wrists. He doesn’t want any control today, just the mindless ache and pleasure of Erik’s attention and devotion. After a bit of maneuvering, his hands are bound behind him, so he crawls up to the bed on his knees, letting his chest rest against the mattress and breathing in the clean smell of fabric softener.

Outside the window the city is buzzing with activity, and Charles is taut like a puppet on strings. Slowly the tension from his body eases with the knowledge that Erik is on his way, and he drifts into a half-dreaming state, synching his breathing with every fourth tick of the clock. He doesn’t notice it when Erik comes in, but he registers his presence in the room slowly, his awareness viscous like wading through molasses.

The first touch at the back of his neck is warm. Erik is testing the give of his hole with gentle fingers, and Charles quivers, finally having his Sir with him. “You’re okay, you're alright,” Erik murmurs in relief, soothing, his palm sweeping from Charles’ nape to the small of his back where his hands are bound. “Such a good boy, Charles.”

Charles opens his eyes at half-mast, seeing only the wall and the shadows cast upon them by the afternoon light. He has words in his head that won’t reach his tongue, not for any lack of trying but because they flit too fast for him to catch. He hears the distinctive click of Erik’s belt buckle, and then the zip of his trousers being pulled down.

Erik makes him wait for it, anticipation running across his skin and thickening the air until he can scarcely breathe. His large hands run from Charles’ knees to his hips, thumbs dipping into the crevice of his buttocks until they’re hooking him open. Erik shushes him again when he whines, guiding the head of his cock in, and the slide is effortless thanks to Charles’ earlier ministrations.

The rhythm starts off slow and deep, lulling Charles deeper into subspace, into that perfect state of trust and submission. His Sir nudges him upwards onto a sitting position, tucking him securely against him. Charles knows that he should probably feel vulnerable, naked while Erik is still fully clothed save for his suit jacket, except he feels protected and cared-for, the span of his abdomen warmed by Erik’s open palm. His shoulders don’t ache as much sitting upright either, and it gives Erik enough leverage to sweep kisses over them.

He gasps when Erik strokes his cock in perfect tune with the languid tempo they’ve established. His Sir feels warm and solid around him, and his cock is brushing _just so_ over the spot that always makes stars burst behind Charles’ eyes. Erik knows the perfect angle for teasing, sliding his cock just past Charles’ prostate, making him pant for it.

Charles is always quiet in this state, but Erik is familiar enough with his body that he stops just before the precipice of pleasure. He lets him recover with gentler thrusts, depositing him back on the bed. His Sir pulls out and shifts Charles on his side, placing a pillow underneath his head and his chest to keep him comfortable. No matter how ruthless a businessman is, Erik is considerate to a fault as a lover. As a Dom, he’s the safest place to fall.

“Stay, Charles,” Erik quietly commands, pressing Charles’ head down to the pillow to keep him there. Charles obeys, half-aware of the sound of cloth rustling. When Erik comes back to him, his thighs are hot against Charles’ skin. He crooks one of Charles’ knees forward and plants his hand on one firm asscheek, swivelling his hips so that he’s fucking Charles firmly and steadily, reestablishing himself as the sole focus of Charles’ attention.

Charles wavers at the edge of orgasm again, his body tightening around Erik. His Sir slows the rhythm and prolongs the pleasure of the fuck, keeping him balanced on the tightrope of desire. Charles by now has lost all control of his words, the sound he’s able to produce reduced to gasps and quiet, helpless moans. Erik brings him to the edge once more, and Charles archs, coiled like a spring. Erik changes the angle of his thrusts so that he’s hitting Charles where he needs it and driving him mad, the rush of blood in his ears so loud he doesn’t realize he’s passing out.

When he comes to, Erik has replaced his pillow with his chest and his hands are unbound. “Sweetheart,” Erik murmurs when Charles nuzzles into his neck, tactile and affectionate. Charles feels purged and clean, wordless and happy as he rubs his hand through the sparse hair leading down to Erik’s groin. His Sir drags one of Charles’ knees over his waist to situate him more comfortably, and he clings like a vine to the trellis. After a light doze Charles more or less feels settled and himself.

“Thank you,” he whispers hoarsely. “I needed that.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Charles reaches up to cup the side of Erik’s neck. “I’m...better. Not totally okay, but better.”

“Good.” Erik doesn't push any more for details, and Charles is thankful for it.

“I just can’t help think...what if I didn’t have that bulletproof vest on? What then?”

Erik’s grip tightens on him. “I would avenge you.”

“Oh, darling. Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

“He already killed my daughter. If I lose you, then I don’t have anything else to lose.”

The statement is heavy with sentiment, and to Charles’ infinite surprise, Erik doesn’t take it back. Beyond the bedroom, Erik balks at any kind of intimacy. It’s how they began after all: a drink, an agreement, a scene. Even the bachelor pad they choose to have their trysts in is decidedly impersonal. However, the chess pieces are moving, and the players are gambling with higher stakes. Maybe it’s time to show his hand.

“If I lose you, I won’t have anything else to lose, either,” he confesses, letting the air saturate with his quiet declaration. Erik doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t refute it either, and that’s answer enough.


End file.
